


Happy Holidays from the Attolias

by storieswelove



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Silly Holiday Fluff, Spoilers for Book 6: Return of the Thief (Queen's Thief), but like only just barely, featuring art by fishyspots!, with a side of Eddisian betting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28324164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storieswelove/pseuds/storieswelove
Summary: “Fine, Gen. If I can’t park this car, you get to dress us for our holiday card this year.” Irene and Sophos, both staring out the window while their spouses bickered, turned toward Helen in unison. They looked then toward Gen, whose eyes had lit up like Eugenia and Hector’s waking up to find presents under the tree. Helen continued, “And if I win, I get to dress you.”*Gen makes a bad bet he lives to regret.A fluffy holiday short featuring original art by fishmaid!
Relationships: Attolia | Irene/Eugenides, Eddis | Helen & Eugenides, Eddis | Helen/Sophos
Comments: 20
Kudos: 38





	Happy Holidays from the Attolias

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it with the modern au shitposting. You'll note that this is explicitly _not_ a Christmas fic, because I wouldn't dare take the polytheism away from them, but they still deserve cute winter pjs and costumes.
> 
> Art at the bottom by [fishmaid on tumblr](http://fishmaid.tumblr.com/) who does the most stunning QT art!

“Helen, you _cannot_ park your Jeep in that spot!” Gen yelled from the backseat. 

The cousins and their spouses were packed into Helen’s old Jeep Wrangler, on a rare night away from their children. They had dinner reservations, but had circled the area three times to no avail. The tight space that Helen would have to parallel park into was the only spot for miles. For the past two minutes, the car had been stopped with its hazard lights on while Gen and Helen fought. 

“Gen, either I park here, or we miss our reservations.” The restaurant would not seat them unless the entire group was present. “Take your pick.” 

“You don’t fit!” 

“You drive a Mini Cooper! How are you going to tell me where my car does and doesn’t fit?” 

Gen bristled. “I’m not the one who crashed the hatchback,” he snapped. 

“I was nineteen! That was a _decade_ ago.” Helen took two deep, steadying breaths and then turned around fully in her seat to face Gen. When someone honked at them, she rolled down her window and motioned for the car to go around her. She turned back to her younger cousin. “Fine, Gen. If I can’t park this car, you get to dress us for our holiday card this year.” Irene and Sophos, both staring out the window while their spouses bickered, turned toward Helen in unison. They looked then toward Gen, whose eyes had lit up like Eugenia and Hector’s waking up to find presents under the tree. Helen continued, “And if I win, I get to dress _you_.” 

As quick as it came, the joy drained from Gen’s face. Their massive family had an unrivaled holiday card tradition. Every cousin, spouse, sibling, and child was accounted for, every household displaying the others’ cards, photos lined up on mantels and strung across garland stretching the full length of rooms to accommodate the collection of pictures. Aulus and Boagus’s always featured matching, hand-knitted sweaters for both them and their two bulldogs. Agape and her wife used a photo from one of their far-flung vacations. But Helen and Sophos and their gaggle of children took the cake with their over-the-top, themed photos. Gen stared back at Helen, who was still turned toward him, looking smug. 

In the silence, Irene muttered, “It would certainly be cheaper.” Gen insisted on making their family card more and more ornate each year, staging full photoshoots with beautiful gowns and tailored suits that cost a fortune. 

Gen’s head snapped toward his wife. “Whose side are you on?” he said a little harshly, but she waved him off and looked back out the window. 

“Come on, Gen,” Sophos said sweetly from the front seat. “If you win, you can even make me wear that embroidered velvet suit you gave me.” 

Gen looked at Sophos, then back at Helen, who shrugged. 

In the end, Gen’s savage desire to end Helen’s chaotic holiday card tradition won out. “Fine,” Gen said, still snappish. “But get ready. The matching suits are going to look _so_ good.” 

“If you say so,” she said, smiling at him in her rearview mirror as she turned off her hazard lights and put her car into reverse. 

It was a tense thing. At least twice, Helen swore under her breath as she miscalculated an angle, and each time Gen inhaled triumphantly, sure victory was in sight. But eventually, Helen pulled out of the spot completely and reversed back into it again. On that third try, she adjusted a few times until — 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Gen hissed as Helen cackled, bordering on maniacal, from the front seat. 

As they all slid out of the car, Helen wrapped an arm around his waist. “So, about those matching suits…” 

Gen was cranky the rest of the evening. 

*

“You really let her bait you, huh?” Irene asked, later that night as they were getting into bed. 

“She shouldn’t have been able to park that car!” Irene stared at him, unmoving, until he conceded. “Okay, fine. I let her bait me. I just really hate her fucking holiday cards.” 

For the past seven years, Gen and Helen had been locked in an unending holiday card battle. Well, more accurately, Gen had been locked in a one-sided battle, and Helen had taken to escalating just to get a rise out of him. She’d dressed up Sophos — and then the kids as they’d started to arrive — in progressively tackier and more ridiculous outfits. The cute, matching snowflake pajamas had made for ridiculous costumes, until last year they’d ended up almost perfectly themed, except for Helen, who had worn some weird musketeer outfit that made no sense and had almost driven Gen over the edge. 

Irene gigged at his grouchiness and leaned over to kiss him goodnight. “It’s going to be fine.” 

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning off his bedside lamp and turning over to sleep. 

*

Helen didn’t mention the card again after that night. She let it lie dormant for so long that Gen dared to hope she might let it slide, until one Saturday Helen turned up, unannounced, carrying bags. When he answered the door, surprised, she smiled and said, “Ready for your close up, Gen?”

While Gen sulked, horrified, in the living room, Sophos rallied his niece and nephew, doling out brand new pajamas. “They don’t even match!” Gen whined when he saw the clothes while the kids, delighted, ran up to their rooms to change. 

Sophos looked up at him. “Yeah, but everyone got their favorite things. Look,” he said, picking up a gleeful Eugenia, who had just reappeared clad in green. “Eugenia has frogs, and Hector,” he said, motioning at his nephew with his chin, wrapped in yellow pjs, “has horses!” 

“Yeah, Dad, see?” Hector said, pointing at the horses patterned across his top, smiling up at his dad with his missing front tooth. 

Gen grinned, momentarily too charmed by his kid to be upset by the picture or the horses. “Those are _very_ cool,” he nodded. When Hector had turned, Gen shot a glare at Sophos. 

Irene, who had disappeared with the kids, returned to the living room wearing new red silk pajamas of her own. She laughed at the miserable look on Gen’s face, and strode over to him, kissing him on the top of the head. “It will all be over soon,” she teased. 

Steeling himself, Gen took a deep breath and turned to Helen, who had been notably quiet since she’d greeted him at the door. “Okay, where are mine?” Gen said. 

Helen grinned, gleeful, like a cartoon banker seeing a vault filled with gold. Gen’s body filled with dread again. She handed him the last brown bag she’d brought. “Here you go.” 

Gen peered into the bag and choked. “ _No_.” 

“Oh, yes,” she said, and her laughter followed Gen through the house as he went to change. 

*

When Gen failed to return after a few minutes, Irene went to the bedroom to check on him. She stopped in the doorway and choked back a laugh. 

“Don’t,” he said. 

“It’s not _that_ bad.” 

“I look like a fool.” 

“A very cute fool,” Irene said. 

“Can you pour hot coffee on me? Put me out of my misery.” 

She laughed and grabbed his hand. “Come on,” she said, tugging him, until she noticed something laying on the bed. “What is that?” 

“It’s the hat,” he said in despair. The bells jingled as he pulled his hand free and picked it up to show her. Irene pulled it on his head. 

“ _Ohhh_ ,” she said breathily, and this time, she could not stop her laughter. 

*

“Oh, two, three!” Sophos called. “Say cheese!”

**Author's Note:**

> All the holiday love to [Kiraly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiraly/pseuds/Kiraly) for the beta pass and to [fishmaid](http://fishmaid.tumblr.com/) for the incredible art at the bottom! 
> 
> Thanks for reading!! Always on the hunt for prompts, as long as you don’t mind if it takes me a couple months to fill them! Come scream about QT with me on tumblr @ [storieswelove](storieswelove.tumblr.com) or [the Queen's Thief discord](https://discord.gg/JYJufae).


End file.
